Playa Des Love
by TheLonelyAuthor
Summary: "First love is only a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity." -George Bernard Shaw. Besides the words, I owe nothing.
1. Movie Night

_ "First love is only a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity."_

_**-George Bernard Shaw **_

Chapter One

It's Friday. 9:36 in the evening, last time I looked up from my 1975 hardcover edition of 'Jane Eyre'. Pieces of popcorn litter the carpeted floor, occasionally flying out of some laughing neanderthal's mouth, along with the inevitable spray of carbonated beverage from the nostrils, which I know from experience is pretty painful, but when it's cascading down someone else's face is just **gross** and **annoying**.

This, my friends, is Movie Night.

_If you were ever seriously considering suicide, _I think bitterly,_ now would be the time to commit it._

We're supposed to be 'bonding'. Getting to know one another better while simultaneously wallowing in our shame and-for a lack of a better word-loserdom, on the Island of Misfit Toys, when most of us just want to go home and forget this whole freaking experience ever happened.

"I think that chick's gonna take her top off!" Geoff yells, which is followed by elated howls and monkey grunts and a few eyes rolls so dramatic I can practically hear them.

So maybe not most of us...but me. I, for one, want to go home.

I was really trying here. But god, you can only take so much of Mr. Rochester in one sitting before you start to read the same sentence over and over again, and the mildly judgmental phrase _'what a drip' _starts to form in your mind, and you know you're going to have to put the book down pretty soon before you start biting at your own flesh like a motherless baby chimp. But in the same breath, putting the book down would mean having to focus my attention on the movie, which as far as I can tell, is nothing more than a glamorized lesbian porno.

"Gosh, this is so cliche." Harold huffs, and while continuing to eye my book, I can hear the noises of what sounds like the beginning of an intense and possibly bloody mugging.

"Go for the throat." I deadpan. "Take the purse and the french baguette and run."

People snicker, and my over-inflated ego initially thinks it's because I'm so funny. But when I look up, the screen is not, as I had imagined, lit up with a greasy-looking man playing tug-of-war with the supposedly now topless woman's shopping bags, but rather, a graphic and completely unromantic make out scene.

"What a virgin." Somebody giggles.

I can feel myself begin to blush, much to my annoyance. So I couldn't identify a janitor's closest groping session-without using my eyes, mind you. So what. It's not like I'm **experienced **on the subject or anything. Ask anyone who knows me—hell, just take the time to **look** at me. However, I would personally recommend contacting your friendly neighborhood computer hacker, one with the ability to tap into my Google searches, to fully explain to you the depths of my virgin-minded haplessness.

Yes, I am an adolescent male, and yes, porn is a part of said lifestyle.

But anyone 'getting it', and even if their not getting 'it', per se, but rather only getting 'some', doesn't need to rely on the types of seedy websites that I do.

Excuse me—I have just been informed via Urban Dictionary that getting 'it' and getting 'some' are used synonymously.

Unfortunately, this only furthers my point.

"You can't really be a 'Noah-it-all' without first exploring the smooth crevices of the female body, dude." Geoff exclaims.

"That's **true**!" Lindsay agrees. I give her a look, although in her defense she probably doesn't even know what she's agreeing to.

"Quantum Mechanics or prepubescent groping. Which will better prepare me for life?" I ask dryly. Before any idiot can attempt to answer, I stand up and make my way to my room, book in hand and mouth curled into a scowl.

I need a shower. Half-assed dips in the pool aren't cutting it anymore, evidently, and even those have been lacking recently due to Izzy's 'pee' incident.

Frankly, I smell like shit.

_You're really helping the whole 'stay a virgin forever' plan move along nicely, _I think to myself.

The door to my room is already open when I get there but the lights are turned off, making me come to the rational conclusion that Izzy is hiding somewhere inside, waiting to jump out when I'm in my underwear or in the bathroom or something else to thoroughly degrade me. The girl's a master of humiliation.

So in I go, stomping like a madman to let her know I'm there, making sure to look behind the doors and even punch ferociously at a suspiciously tall pile of dirty laundry. Still, the wackjob remains hidden.

I do, however, uncover someone else.

"...Cody?"


	2. Rainbow Fish

Chapter Two

He is in my room. The kid. Is in. My room. Worse; he is **sitting on my bed**. He greets me with a doofy looking smile plastered on his face and an equally doofy Homecoming Queen Wave of Welcome, completely oblivious to my soon-to-be rage.

My own filth is one thing...at least I know where I've been. But another person's ass, resting on the very spot that I like to think I can be able to sleep in confidence, almost sends me over the edge.

That is, until he speaks.

"Do you have 'Rainbow Fish'?"

Now, I'm smart. I know that; I pride myself on that. But really, how the hell was I supposed to respond to that?

I say nothing. I, unlike most people, prefer silence to the spouting of blubbering nonsense.

Cody cracks his knuckles nervously, his gapped tooth smile fading with every passing moment. My eyebrow raises and judgmental pauses must not be making this place feel quite as homey as I had hoped.

"You know...the kid's book? With the fish?" He asks.

"Is it rainbow-ed?" I reply sarcastically.

He gives an anxious laugh, eyes quickly darting to the pile of books in the far corner of the room.

"Why do you need it?" I ask finally.

"My sister...she's been, um, bugging me for a present." He responds. And then, a few moments later, adds, "To like, send her and stuff."

I smirk. "Thank you for the clarification."

"Heh, yeah..."

I should just tell him that I don't have the freaking book and let him be on his merry way. But for some reason, I don't.

"So let me get this straight." I muse. "You come to my room, without my consent, mind you-"

"Yeah, I'm sorry abou-"

I put my hand up in the universal if not slightly flamboyant gesture for 'shut the hell up and let me finish'.

"You come to my room-again, without any form of consent from me whatsoever-to sit in my room, in the darkness, for god knows how long and wait for me to show up." I raise my eyebrows to express my feelings of absurdity for the situation. "For a children's novel."

"Well, I didn't want to scare you-"

"A children's novel you only want so you can re-gift it to you sister."

Cody sighs, defeated.

"Do you have it or not?" He huffs.

"Despite popular belief, I do **not**." I can't help but roll my eyes. "The closest thing I would have to it would be_ 'Moby Dick'_, which isn't very similar to it at all when I think about it, considering that whales are mammals and not even closely related to-"

I'm cut off by Cody's wheezing giggles. I'm confused for a minute, but after quickly going over our conversation, it hits me like a ton of bricks-or, better yet, a ton of Owen.

_Please tell me he's not laughing because I said the word 'dick'..._

"Dick." I say, testing it out.

Cody giggles louder.

I groan, frustrated beyond self control, causing Cody to seize the laughter and continue grinning nervously.

"Well, thanks Noah, you know, for your time."

"Whatever."

As he walks out of my room, I feel a little bad for being so...well, me. I'm the book guy. He wanted a book. What's the harm in that?

"Hey Cody!" I yell from the doorway. "Did you know that Moby Dick was a Sperm Whale?"

Cody's giggles echo down the hallway, and I can feel myself smirk.


	3. Truth or Bear

Chapter Three

The sky is the color of milk-which, when not speaking the sacred language of Poetic Bullshit, simply means it's cloudy out. It also means that most of the_ perdedores _will be staying inside today. What can I say; poorly placed tiki idols and obviously fake palm trees just don't seem to have that same magical spark when placed against a sagging gray background.

I eat my cereal slowly and in a depressed manner. Days condemned indoors usually lead to games of violence and humiliation, two things I rather like to avoid at all costs.

"Truth or Bear, wienies!" Izzy howls, punching the kitchen table and causing it to shake, which not only succeeds in irritating me to no extent but also makes it extremely hard to enjoy my Lucky Charms.

"It's Truth or **Dare**." Courtney corrects her, in a tone so smug I contemplate standing up and throwing my chair at her over-sized head.

"Not how I play it!" Izzy replies, flashing a deranged grin. I notice for the first time that one of her bottom teeth is missing, but before I can start to dwell on how such a thing happened (the possibilities with this one are freaking **endless**), she prances into another room to screech the same thing, only this time adding, "Everybody stay where you are! Izzy will move **you**."

This is the type of shit I'm taking about.

Forty five minutes later (it took some extra time for old E-Scope to 'round up some naughty cattle', as she liked to put it), we were all gathered in the downstairs coat closet, which was actually pretty roomy but was still a fucking coat closet.

"Okay, so this is how it'll go." Izzy twitters, fluttering around excitingly like a hummingbird. "You can pick Truth, and you know, you have to tell the truth," She puts her fingers up in the 'Boy Scout's Honor' sign, "or you can pick Bear, and then I'll dress up like a bear, and you know, beat you up a little."

We stare. Izzy laughs.

"I'll toss you around with my claws and stuff!" She exclaims. "I'll be all like 'rawr' and 'grr' and 'stay away from my little bear babies'!"

We continue staring. Izzy gleams with pride.

"...Aaand I'm done here." Eva grumbles. She opens the door and steps out, a lucky few able to follow her lead before Izzy gains control once more and slams the door shut.

"Bethtruthorbear?" Izzy asks quickly, feeling her game slipping away before her very eyes.

"...Huh?"

There's no time for repetition, apparently, but more than enough time for asking practically every last remaining closet dweller the same rushed and nearly incomprehensible question.

"Sadietruthorbear?"

"Lindsaytruthorbear?"

"Tylertruthorbear?"

"NOAHTRUTHORBEAR?"

This is getting old-or rather, it was always old, but it's not getting any younger.

"I pick truth." I say. "And don't bother thinking of a question, because I already have the perfect one to ask myself. Ahem." And off I go, on a fairly impressive rendition of what I like to call, 'Two Noahs, One Wackjob'. "_'Noah, is this the stupidest thing you've ever done?' _Why yes, Noah, it is._ 'And why is that?' _Because, dear Noah, I am in a closet with a group of imbeciles and a mentally unstable lunatic, forced to play a game that is a dreadful mix between a teenage girl gossip session and a wild bear attack."

Izzy pouts for a minute, reaching for her bear head as a last resort.

"You'll **all** get the bear!" She screeches, but it's a half-hearted attempt. After a few growls and swipes at our sneakers she begrudgingly lets us go, mumbling about 'a lack of appreciation' and locking herself in the downstairs bathroom.

"Hey Noah," Cody says softly, falling in line next to me."...thanks for stopping her." He gives a weak smile.

I shrug in return, busy hoping that no one ate my cereal while I was gone.

"Bears...they freak me out." He adds.

"Izzy should be the one that freaks you out."

My bowl is empty. Why am I not even surprised? I curse under my breath and dig through the cabinets for some more Lucky Charms, but when I check the fridge we're all out of milk.

Everyone's out to get me today.

"Heh heh, yeah...but Izzy never mauled a guy or anything." Cody rubs his arms and stares at the tiled floor, smile fading.

Shit.

I forgot about that.

"...Thanks again, Noah." He adds, and just like that the smile is back, gapped teeth and all.

I swallow hard, feeling flushed.

Upstairs in my room, I find myself writing a letter to my mom. I do this about once a week, just to let her know that I'm not dead yet, but this time I think I'm going to ask for a little something instead.

Hell...maybe even a book about a certain rainbow-ed fish.


	4. Sylvan's Learning Center

Chapter Four

"Are you really studying? For like, **school** and stuff?" Cody's mouth hangs open and his eyes boggle, resembling one of those really ugly bottom suckers that are sometimes in my National Geographic magazines.

"Mm-hm."

"But dude...It's summer!"

"Your observational skills continue to astound me."

It's that time of the week again, when the entire gang gathers in the living room to view their pornography of choice, accompanied by fattening snacks and bouts of clever-less commentary. I however, having been thoroughly humiliated last time, decide to sit this one out.

I have enough fattening snacks in the kitchen here anyway.

"Learning doesn't stop just because school ends." I explain, well aware of how exceedingly nerdy I sound. "If everyone kept at it through the summer, the first half of the school year wouldn't have to be filled with stupid review worksheets...you know, students can forget up to two and a half months of what they learned in school over the summer."

Cody crinkles his nose, in a way that I definitely don't find adorable.

"I've heard that before..." He says thoughtfully.

"From me. Just now."

"No...somewhere else..." Suddenly Cody's face lights up, and a grin that I can only describe as jackassy forms across his face. "Dude, did you get that from a commercial?"

Shit.

"You **did**! You totally did!" He laughs. "You got it from that...that Sylvan's Learning Center!"

"So what?" I snap, feeling my face darken. "It's a valuable...source of...information..."

I trail off, considering Cody isn't even listening to me at this point but instead giggling like an idiot.

"Oh, go watch your damn porno!" I yell sourly. What is he doing in here anyway? I grap a handful of chips and eat them violently, turning back to my calculus textbook and trying to ignore Cody's shadow leering in the background.

"...Noah?"

"What."

"...Are you mad at me?"

"Infuriated."

I look up when I don't hear anything and sigh at Cody's genuinely worried expression.

"I have nine older siblings, Cody...and Izzy. I have Izzy." I close my book. "It's going to take a lot more than that to get me mad."

"But..."

"But **what**?"

"It's just...you're always mad." He grins sheepishly.

"No. I am always** irritated**." I clarify. "And if I'm always mad anyway, why do you care if I'm mad now?"

"I don't care if you're mad." Cody says seriously."I just don't want you to be mad at** me**."

I think I can feel my hear throb a little.

Or maybe it's just a chip crumb stuck in my chest.


	5. Jerry the Emu

**(Side Note:** I would like to thank all of those who are taking the time to read this and give such great and thoughtful reveiws-everytime I read one, it makes my day. Also, for those who are wondering, I am planning on continuing this story for as long as people are interested in it.)

Chapter Five

The shit-tastic weather has amazed all of us by sticking around for more than a week now, complete with a flash flood and a hailstorm big enough to knock Justin out for two days straight (I didn't enjoy it-I swear). If I wasn't the genius that I obviously am, I would blame the uncanny weather on Chris and some far-fetched climate-altering machine; hell, even **as** the genius that I obviously am, I'm starting to consider it. Why he would waste the money by wreaking havoc on us losers though, instead of the Total Drama semi-finalists, remains a mystery.

Maybe he just likes to watch us squirm.

"This stinks!" Katie moans. "I was totally going to go tanning today!"

"Oh my gosh, me too!" Sadie agrees.

"Well...we can at least go swimming, right?"

"Fat chance, Sunshines." I butt in. Maybe if they just, oh I don't know, **looked out the window**, they could see the heavy sheet of rain and the flashes of lightening lighting up the otherwise dark sky.

"But I thought lightening only hit, like, **trees** and stuff." Lindsay muses.

_On second thought, maybe I should let them go for it... _

"Ooooh no." Izzy grins. "This one time my uncle, right, he gets hit with lightening, and it has to leave his body somehow, but instead of going out of his foot like it should've the lightening just busted right out of his knee! Blood just came **gushing** out of his knee hole, and we were all, 'Oh my gosh, what do we do?', because we were all in shock, you know, so we're just running around and trying to avoid his knee blood until some guy finally calls 911 or something like that. Sooo gross!"

"His knee." I repeat, incredulous, as I am with most of Izzy's stories. "Lightening will always follow the quickest path it can to reach the ground; there is no way in hell it would go through his knee."

"He was proposing." Izzy says simply.

Of course he was.

I leave before anything else incredibly stupid can happen and head for my room, my mind already swimming with possible plot twists that may be up ahead in my book (god-I just read that out loud and...**god**. It's almost sickening how lame I can be). Frantic whimpers and crashes, however, stop me.

"Oh, where the crap can he be...stupid, Cody, stupid..." Cody stands with his back facing his opened bedroom door, hunched over as he haphazardly throws around the junk lying on the ground and his bed in a blind panic.

"Lose something?" I ask. Cody turns around, eyes wide like a frightened doe's.

"N-no."

"Oh?" I cross my arms. "Then what's this? Your idea of redecorating?"

His normally awkward giggle is even worse than usual, paired with a nervous head scratch and a little dance that makes him look like he has to pee.

"What is it?" I pry, raising an eyebrow. "Porn?"

Cody blushes, much to my delight.

"What? No! It's just...it's just something really stupid, and I don't really...I-I don't really want to share what it is right now, okay?"

I pause, thoughtfully thinking things over.

"...It's porn, isn't it."

Cody groans in frustration and I let out a laugh; not a snicker, mind you, but an actual laugh, something that occurs so rarely it scares me a little.

"If I tell you, will you cut it out?" He asks finally.

I shrug. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

Dear.

_I just called Cody 'dear'. _

True, it was only to correctly quote Rhett Butler, but my ears still redden at the thought.

"Heh..." Cody mumbles, obviously caught off guard. He coughs a little, and then, probably just to change the subject, adds, "well, it's um...it's an emu. Named Jerry."

"What?" I ask, still in a slight daze.

"It's stuffed...a stuffed animal. And I lost him, which really sucks, because I like to sleep with him at night but-" He stops himself, becoming embarrassed all over again.

_Cody sleeps with a stuffed emu named Jerry._

I try to think it's not cute. I try to make myself believe it's lame and childish, but when it comes right down to it, who am I to alter my brain's initial course of choice?

"I hope you find it." I mutter stupidly. "I'd help you look, but I got this book back in my room that I really want to-"

Cody nods, and I shut up.

"See ya, Noah." He says, because really, that was all that was left to say. I linger a bit, watching the way he's biting at his lower lip, but eventually nod back.

"See ya, Cody."


	6. Reality Check

Chapter Six

I can't sleep that night. I'd like to blame it on the thunder; a stupid book I can't put down or a crippling bout of homesickness that I can't shake. Hell, I'd even take the stomach flu over this-the two-sided spewing type even (and I hope that you don't need any more explanation after **that** lovely image).

But the truth is, I'm worried.

Worried over a freaking stuffed animal.

I've had crushes before-I'd be concerned if I hadn't by this point of my teenaged life, honestly. But they've all been safe. Substitute teachers or washed out celebrities circa the 1970s; our high school football team's Tightend (quite literally) or a hipstery-looking guy I saw on a commercial about laundry detergent. People that would never notice me; people that were so high above me on the social ladder that it would be impossible to reach their ruby-studded levels, and because of that-paired with my intelligent and overly-analytical brain-I never had the faintest urge to even try.

But this isn't a young Rob Lowe we're talking about. This is Cody. Cody Anderson.

The Geek.

The **women**-obsessed geek.

Now I know what you're thinking:_ 'Oh, poor Noah...he just had to fall in love with the straight guy.' _

And my answer to all of you is this: No.

First of all, I am not 'in love', nor do I think I ever will be. It's a **crush**, people. Get over it...I'm pretty sure I will. And even if I don't, don't get your hopes up; I simply refuse to admit to being in love with someone who will never love me back. It's just so...**cliche**.

But I digress.

Believe it or not, this was supposed to be sappy. It was a first attempt to really put my feelings out there but obviously, I failed.

But hey. 'A' for effort, right?

I mean, come on. I'm **Noah** for fuck's sake. I just admitted to not being able to sleep because I'm too busy worrying about some dork's misplaced emu; I shared with you my deep, unconditional love for Rob Lowe circa 'The Outsiders' years.

I'm trying here; I really am. But I guess when you start an emotionally charged confessional of your endless love by talking about simultaneously ejecting digested food particles out of both ends, you're probably not cut out for this shit (pun intended).

I'll try to make this short and sweet. I like Cody. And maybe when I'm falling asleep I like to hug a pillow and pretend it's him, and maybe I sometimes start to wish that pillows had arms so that he could hug me back.

But then I really start to think about it and I change my mind.

I mean really;a** pillow with working limbs**?

Gross.


	7. Tornado Watch

Chapter Seven

It was the type of morning where you wake up and really only have two options: either take an extremely cold shower or...hm. How to put this delicately? Screw it. I'm assuming you know what I'm going for here, and if not, ask your father; I'm sure he would be delighted to explain these sorts of things to you.

If there is anything worse than waking up to this certain (ahem) predicament in a place where privacy is simply a myth and bathrooms are shared with a joint philosophy of shamelessness, it would be the above but this time, with the added adreniline rush of a red-headed buffoon yelling alarming nonsense at you.

"Get up get up get up!" Izzy grabs me by my shoulders and shakes me until I think I'm about to throw up, or at least start hurling insults towards her. "Tornado Watch; the TV said! Coat closet!"

She jumps up and runs out into the hallway like a loon, spouting the same shit to the other losers but using slightly differing vocabulary choices.

Thank god it's not just me-I was beginning to feel special.

When she gets to Cody's room (not that I was anticipating it or anything), my heart starts to beat fast. My palms start to sweat and my...'problem'...intensifies(there; **that** was graceful). And to top it all off-the cherry to the hormonally-infused sundae, as it were-I'm still worried over that fucking emu.

Jesus.

"You're worse than a girl, Noah." I mutter to myself, because when you get right down to it it's probably true. I flop back down onto my bed and dwell over my lovestruck woe for a while, complete with a few emotionally-charged 'why mes' thrown into the mix (internally at least), until I become distracted with watching Izzy push Cody out of his room and hearing her quickly lock herself inside instead.

"You're on your own now, sucker!" She cackles, in a way that makes me unsure if she's either estatic or in an extreme mode of panic. Frankly, I don't care...and not only for my regular apathetic reasons. As Cody stands there in the hallway, two things arise that I can be absolutley certain of:

1. Cody does not have any pants on, and

2. I am apparently not the only one who experiences morning wood.

In your everday erotic read, things would procede as so_-I let a small moan of desire escape my lips. Cody hears me and without a single spoken word, makes his way to my bedroom, slowly and slouchy, like a wild feline begging to be tamed. _

And then, of course, the sex.

So. Much. Sex.

But because this is, in fact, my life, things don't go exactly according to plan.

"Tornado Watch...that's dangerous, right?" Cody calls out, not to me specifically but to any of the other ex-contestants, now wandering the hallways in a semi-conscious daze; it seems like I'm one of the only people to have disregarded wackjob's warning and stay in my room, albeit with the door swung wide open.

Probably because I'm the only ones with any brains around here.

"A Tornado Watch means exactly what it sounds like...it's just to let you know to keep an eye out for anything. It's a Tornado **Warning** you have to worry about." Courtney says smugly, sprinkling her knowledge like arts and crafts gflitter on us less fortunate. God, it pisses me off...and not only because I was just about to say the same thing.

"Izzy, get out of there!" Cody whines, once everyone has calmed down (if we were more calm, we'd be dead) and gone back to their rooms. "It's just a Tornado Watch...we just have to...like, **watch** and stuff."

"Oh I know!" Izzy chrips back, and I can hear the door open. I can't see her from my doorway, but I can confidently guess that she's grinning like a doofus. "I just wanted to watch you guys run around, like extras in a Japanese monster movie or something...oh! By the way, I found this in your underwear drawer." Izzy throws something, and by the sound of makes when falling into Cody's hands it's fairly light and stuffed with tiny beads.

Jerry.

Finally; my heart can be at peace.

Other things, however, are not as calm. I'm not going to give out any details or specifics-I mean come on, we barely know each other. But seeing Cody's...'thing', covered only by his...'other thing' proved to be too much. It was the breaking point. No going back.

Let's just say this: Remember those two choices I gave at the beginning of this chapter?

I choose the latter.


	8. Glitter Glue

Chapter Eight

"So...Izzy found your emu in your underwear drawer, huh?" I lean against Cody's door, looking like the freaking **epitome** of cool, as he busies himself by...well, I'm not quite sure what he's doing, but it's involving a hell of a lot of glitter glue.

"Were you eavesdropping or something?" He asks nervously, and my lack of an answer is all the answer he needs.

"I wonder what **other** treasures are lurking inside." I reach for one of his dresser drawers, slowly and deliberately, but Cody's too damn busy with his kindergarten-esque art project to even notice.

That's right. Mark today down in your calenders, folks, for it's soon to go down in history: I'm flirting.

And not even unintentionally.

I figure, why the hell not at this point? Maybe it's just the testostrome speaking, but today seems like the perfect day to take a risk-even moreso than that time when I ate my Mini Wheats without any milk.

Carpe de diem.

Seize the day.

I'm here, I'm queer, get used to it.

"Dude. Another guy is reaching for your underwear, but you're too busy...glittering to even notice." I raise an eyebrow. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were gay or something."

There; now how smooth was that?

"Uh...y-yeah, I guess so." He murmurs.

_I guess so?_

My stupid heart starts to pound in my stupid chest, and just like that my cool act deminishes-although (it kills my ego to say this), I have to admit that it wasn't too good of an act to begin with.

"But luckily, you **do** know me." He grins, holding up his masterpiece. The glue's not quite dry yet so the image starts to run and the talent is severley under par, but any moron can see what it's supposed to be.

Or who.

Gwen.

"It's a 'Congratulations' poster." He explains. "You know, for getting into the final three."

"Oh." It's all I can muster.

"Do you think she'll like it?" His eyes shine with a mixture of hope and teenage lust, and I have to turn away.

"...Noah?"

I run out of the room-or if you really want to get precise, I fast-walk-, feeling flushed and humiliated. What am I, stupid? No. No, of course not; I shouldn't even be thinking of such a thing. But I'm slipping. I'm becoming confused and...and **emotional**. Look-a tear. A freaking tear running down my freaking face, because the boy I like is in love with someone else and it's breaking my little gay heart.

Booho.

Maybe I should just go to bed; take the extremely unhealthy way out and try to sleep the depression off. Collect my thoughts and bitch-slap my feelings.

I'm still contemplating this when Courtney barges into my room.

"The Tornado Watch just upgraded to a Warning." She says seriously.

"...And?"

I might've been too meloncholy to come up with a good, snarky comeback, but not enough to stop myself from smirking when she walks out of the room in a huff.

So...Tornando Warning; at least death is an effective way of coping with self-pitying depression.

Hey.

Maybe things are looking up after all.


End file.
